


after

by renlyne



Series: apparently I write gryles drabbles now [8]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2016 era, Angst, Basically Very On Brand Misery, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, Undefined Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:45:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renlyne/pseuds/renlyne
Summary: It’s one of the first things Nick remembers Harry ever saying to him, that he liked Nick’s hair.





	after

  


It’s one of the first things Nick remembers Harry ever saying to him, that he liked Nick’s hair. He was bright eyed and curly haired, far too drunk and far, far too young, grinning at Nick with the kind of self-assurance that by all rights he shouldn’t’ve managed at seventeen. _Your hair is amazing._ He’d drawn it out to sound like _amaaaaaaaazing_ , in a way that Nick couldn’t have known would soon become as familiar as breathing. _Wish mine could stand up like that._

He says it again years later. Far into the _after_ , when a drawn out _ayyyy_ is something Nick hears on the phone every now and then. Far past the era of _NickandHarry_. (Not far enough past it that the reminder doesn’t sting.)

_Like your hair like that,_ he mutters, sounding sleepy and content, as if them sitting together on Nick’s sofa is something they still do. As if this is still how Nick spends his Wednesday nights. _I liked it dyed, of course, but— missed it, like this._

Nick breathes for a second before he smiles, thanks him, runs his hand through it. Tries not to remember Harry’s hand in its place, grinning his too young too drunk smile, breathing the same air as Nick before he’d close the distance with that dauntless self-assurance.

_Missed it,_ he mutters again. And then softer, _Missed you._

He’s pretty sure Harry means it. That he always means it, in the moment. Meant it at seventeen, means it now. 

Harry’s on a plane the next day, will be at LAX by the time the sun comes up. 

Nick looks at the sofa in his living room, the half empty bags of crisps on his coffee table that this adult version of Harry has rolled down and clipped shut to keep fresh. Resolutely doesn’t think about a bright eyed teenager who used to leave disaster in his wake. He runs a hand through his hair, tugs at the ends. 

His phone buzzes. _Landed safely. Was so good to catch up. Talk soon x_

Talk soon. 

  
The sun rises in LA, and half way across the world Nick looks around at all the clippings of his hair littering the floor of the salon.

_So good to see you,_ he sends back, politely. Exactly as is expected of him. He debates for a solid thirty seconds before he hits send on the next text. (It's polite. Exactly the reply that's expected of him.)

_Talk soon xx_

   
  
  


They won’t. 

 

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> I did warn you about the on brand misery. Soz loves.
> 
> (As always, if you'd like to cry about gryles of any era at any time I am literally always in the mood, and can be found [here](https://twitter.com/renlynewrites) and [here](http://daretomarvel.tumblr.com/))
> 
> Comments warm my wasted shipping heart ♡


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